


Best Bet

by often_adamanta



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/often_adamanta/pseuds/often_adamanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd by <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_violettefemme"><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/"><b>violettefemme</b></a></span></p>
    </blockquote>





	Best Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile)[**violettefemme**](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/)

  
"Alright, thanks Orlando, that's all for now," Billy says through the speakers. Orlando nods and steps back from the mic, long fingers absently running over the electric guitar.

"What do you think?" Elijah murmurs, even though there's no way he can hear them in the sound proof room.

Billy raises his eyebrows and gives a low whistle. "I think the kid can sing."

Elijah takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke toward the no smoking sign hanging just above the red recording light that Billy switches off as they speak. "No shit."

Billy makes a distracted sound as his fingers move quickly over the equipment with an ease that speaks of long habit. "You have a better ear for what sells than I do." He finally gets everything turned off and turns his attention toward Elijah. "Dom approves." Billy snorts. "Dom's gungfuckinho."

Elijah looks through the glass at Orlando, who is currently sucking down an entire bottle of water, head thrown back and throat working steadily. Elijah takes another long drag and breathes out steadily. "Dom's thinking with his prick."

Billy grins. "As always."

"I'm a little worried about his past."

"Please, being arresting is practically a requirement in this industry."

"That's not what I was referring to."

"Please, being gay is practically a requirement in this industry," Billy corrects himself agreeably. "Just have him do that sexually ambiguous thing where he won't say one way or the other. Fans eat that up with a spoon." Elijah flicks his cigarette butt in the general direction of the trash. Billy follows the arc it makes with his eyes until he's damn sure it's not going to hit his equipment. "Just talk to him if you're worried about it."

"Hmmm," Elijah says, eyes drifting to where Orlando is carefully packing up his guitar.

"You're not normally this indecisive," Billy comments, brows furrowed slightly.

"Yeah," Elijah says with a shrug. "I dunno," he adds finally, because he can't explain it to himself either.

\-----

Elijah knows his eyes are striking, if not downright freakish as Dom insists, and he's not above using it to his advantage, but Orlando doesn't react to his lingering stare. "How'd it sound?" he asked after a minute.

The question was fairly neutral with a hint of curiosity, as if Orlando really does want his opinion. None of the wide-eyed innocence or overbearing arrogance he had quickly become accustom to in this business, which does make for a nice change. "Not bad," Elijah answers honestly. "We'll go through it tomorrow. Billy wants to try laying down the guitar and vocals separately."

Orlando nods, dark hair falling into his eyes only to be pushed back impatiently with those long, tan fingers. "So, no problems?"

Elijah pulls out another cigarette and lights it. "You tell me."

"Not from my end, other than all the pussyfooting about actually signing the contract."

Elijah hides a grin at the term and the straightforward manner. "I'm just not... convinced," he takes a drag before continuing, "that you're our best bet."

Cool brown eyes study him as he flicks the ash onto the carpet. Orlando takes a few steps until he's standing right in front of Elijah, close enough that he can faintly smell the sweat from Orlando's recent performance and the warm scent of his body. "And what will it take to... convince you?"

Elijah leans his head back against the wall to look up into Orlando's face, controlling his desire to get even closer. He shrugs casually, and once again raises his cigarette, but Orlando intercepts the motion, sliding the offending item out of Elijah's finger, throwing it down and stubbing it out with one boot-clad toe. There'll be a burn mark in the carpet that Elijah will get blamed for, but he finds himself distinctly uncaring as Orlando steps even closer.

He drops to his knees, fingers going straight to the fly of Elijah's jeans, and all the air in Elijah's lungs escape though a hiss, his stomach turning upside down at the sight. Orlando frees him and immediately swallows the half-hard length, cheeks hollowing. "Jesus Christ," Elijah cries softly, hips arching off the wall despite his attempt at control. Brown eyes look up at him and _suuuck_ and he gasps again.

Everything turns wet and melts around him and it isn't until Orlando forces himself all the way down past his gag reflex, swallowing around the thick length, that pleasure sears him strongly enough for him to come to his senses.

He grabs Orlando by the hair and pulls him off and up. "Hey," he says, voice stern and wobbly all at once, "I need your voice to work tomorrow."

There's a flash of disappointment in Orlando's eyes that's enough to override whatever small amount of sanity he's found, and instead of suggesting they stop, he drags Orlando by the hair to the nearest table and bends him over it.

"Yes," Orlando hisses, hands working to lower his jeans, but it's not quick enough, and Elijah rubs himself against the curve of his ass, denim rough against the sensitive skin. Orlando's finally got the fastening undone and immediately shoves his pants down to his knees and leans over again, braced against the table with his ass more prominently displayed.

Elijah shoves a finger inside him without warning. Orlando cries out and then pushes back onto it.

It might work for one finger, but not for anything more. "Condom," he manages to say, beginning to fuck Orlando with that finger.

Orlando's spine arches as Elijah's finger brushes against that spot inside. "My bag," he practically snarls, and Elijah twists his finger again as he spots it on the opposite wall underneath the large window into studio, but the realization that they might be caught doesn't stop him. Only Billy and Dom would be here this time of night, and that's nothing new. He retrieves his finger and takes the three steps away from Orlando's heat necessary to grab the bag and then return, shoving it at Orlando, who immediately dumps out the contents. Guitar picks, sheets of hand written tabature, change, and Orlando's own package of cigarettes go sliding across the table. Orlando fumbles through them until he finds a small foil packet and thrusts it into Elijah's hand.

Elijah doesn't waste much more time on prep, although he does make an attempt to stretch Orlando a little more. That's quickly cut off by Orlando's growled, "Just do it already."

Fair enough, Elijah thinks, and pushes inside. He gasps, overcome, and gives another thrust, Orlando pushing back into him demandingly. His fingers find Orlando's hips, holding on tightly and he leans over to bite into Orlando's shoulder though the thin fabric of his shirt, tongue rasping against faded green cotton.

"Oh fuck," Orlando cries, and grabs himself, pulling himself off quickly. Elijah matches the desperate pace with his hips, which causes Orlando to gasp and shudder and, after a minute of holding off the inevitable, comes, body tightening in waves around Elijah's prick, his free hand scrabbling against the table top, sending several pens tumbling over the edge.

Elijah keeps moving, keeps thrusting, keeps grinding into Orlando's ass, but it's Orlando's voice that sends him over the edge, breathlessly egging him on, "Yeah, c'mon, do it, do it..." He comes with a hoarse cry, hard enough for there to be color and light flashing behind his closed eyes and for his legs to give out. Orlando can't keep them up and they go down together, landing in a sweaty, messy pile, Elijah slipping free of Orlando's body with another sharp cry from them both.

They're breathing hard and tangled, and after a minute, Elijah sees Orlando's cigarettes a few inches from his fingers. He grabs the box and lights one, taking a deep drag. He offers it to Orlando just to see the smoke curling out around his lips but doesn't give him his own. He meant what he said about Orlando's voice.

"Well," Orlando says, passing the cigarette back, "how was that? Persuasive enough?"

"I suppose," Elijah responds thoughtfully, staring up at the smoke drifting up and away from them, "that it wouldn't hurt to give you a shot."

Orlando pushes his sweat damp hair back and smiles, sated and pleased, and Elijah leans in to taste the smoke and victory on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/189693.html).


End file.
